


to get by

by orphan_account



Series: Citadel Kids [1]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Citadel of Ricks, morty is a prostitute and his rick is an abusive fuckhat, this isn't a rickmorty fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 16:25:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12891900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Morty's been living on the Citadel with his new Rick for a year now, and life has only gotten worse.





	to get by

**Author's Note:**

> i suck at writing stutters, i'm so sorry

Morty leaned back against the headboard and put his cigarette to his lips. The room was cramped, the comforter over his legs was dirty, and the whole room stank of sex, but he lounged like he was a king, like it was the most lavish hotel room in the multiverse. The Rick sat on the edge of the bed, not facing him, counting Citadel currency from a stack of bills. Morty hummed the Jeopardy! theme song and the Rick huffed out a laugh. It was as fake as his smile had been back at the bar, when he'd slipped an arm around Morty's waist and whispered, _W-why don't we get - get out of here, baby, have a l-l-little fun_ , and Morty had gone with him even though he knew it would just be a one-night stand with another Rick who couldn't feel a fucking thing besides hate and bloodlust.

"T-t-two hundred," the Rick offered, waving tattered bills.

Morty shrugged. "N-not the - not the kind of cash I-I-I'm used to g-getting, Grandpa Rick." The Rick's eyes flashed; the Grandpa card always worked, especially with Ricks like this one, who'd lost their Mortys years ago and stayed on the Citadel alone. "I know w-what my - my time is worth, and I-I want at l-l-least three-fifty."

"Y-y-you weren't _that_ g-good," the Rick muttered, but he forked over the cash. Morty counted it quickly and gave him a nod, then shoved it under his thigh to keep the Rick from attempting to steal it back. .

"Trust me, I-I was. C-c-can't say y-you were, though." The Rick flipped him the bird, and Morty did the same back, taking a drag from his cigarette with his other hand. The Rick looked like he wanted to say more, but instead he snatched up his clothes, tugged them on, and stormed out of the room. Morty watched him go, almost sadly, then snubbed out his cigarette on the ashtray beside the bed and stood to put on his clothes. He tucked the money into a pocket he'd sewn in his jacket right under his armpit, close enough to his body that he'd feel if someone tried to rob him. He left the hotel and began the long trek home.

"Hey, M-morty," he heard from every dark alley and shadowed street corner. "Morty, Morty, c-c-come with me, I-I know you want to." Every jobless, lonely Rick was on the streets at this hour, cooing at every Morty that passed in the hopes of regaining the companion they'd once lost. On the Citadel, there just weren't enough good Mortys to around, leaving a lot of Ricks alone and desperate. A bold one tried to slip an arm around Morty, but he flinched away and muttered that he already had a Rick. Which he kind of did.

He reached the apartment building after a half hour's trip. He headed up the rickety metal staircase, taking the stairs in two, until he made it to his third-floor apartment. A small screen on the door displayed the names of the residents in a simple, bold font: T-292 Rick Sanchez and B-413 Morty Smith. Morty fished his keycard out of his pocket and swiped it over the screen, which beeped and flashed a green light to indicate that the door had been unlocked. He turned the knob and yanked the door open, but something stopped it.

"Rick," Morty called into the apartment. "R-Rick! Y-y-you left the stupid chain in."

"W-well, excuse me f-for enjoying a little - a little extra security, M-morty," Rick yelled scathingly. He shuffled into view after a few seconds and scratched his ass before reaching up to unlock the little chain holding the door closed. Morty slipped inside and, as soon as the door was shut, Rick grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket. "G-gimme the cash, M-morty, I've been waiting for _h-h-hours_. F-for once y-y-you could m-make it a quick fuck, y-you know?"

"Alright, alright, jeez. Excuse _m-me_ for enjoying g-g-good dick every once in awhile, w-would you?" Morty pulled the bills out of his inner pocket and handed them over to Rick, wishing the Rick had gone over three-fifty so he could have pocketed a bit without suspicion. "I'm g-going to bed."

"Ohoho, not so f-fast, Morty." Rick grinned wickedly as he thumbed through the bills. "Count it."

"W-why? It's all there, I already ch-checked."

Rick shoved the money back into his hands. "Fucking. C-count. It."

"Jeez. F-fine." Morty began counting silently, mouthing the numbers to himself. He'd gotten good at adding tens and twenties despite Mortys' inclination to be bad at math. He got to the end of the stack and frowned. "H-h-hold on." He counted again. "It's three-thirty b-but I swear... I swear I ch-ch-checked! I told him my p-price, and I c-c-counted it, I swear, R-rick." Rick snatched the money back and shoved it into his own breast pocket before seizing Morty by his collar and slamming him back against the wall. "I swear, I swear I d-d-didn't take it! He j-just skimped me, h-honest!"

"You little b-bitch," Rick snarled in his face, his nasty breath going directly into Morty's mouth. "D-d-do better next t-time. And if it happens again, I'm assuming y-you stole. Understand, M-morty?" Morty could hear the pure hatred in Rick's voice when he said his name, and though he knew their relationship was built on mutual hate, it still hurt.

"I understand, Rick," he replied. Rick wasn't listening; he was busy pulling up a section of their carpet in the corner of the room, exposing a tiny, almost unnoticeable button on the concrete. He pushed it and it opened a compartment that held an electronic lock. Rick punched in the code and Morty, eyes straining, tried to memorize where his fingers went. He'd tried every night for months now to steal Rick's code, but every night he moved too fast for Morty to figure out the numbers he was putting in. He knew that Rick changed the code sometime while Morty was asleep every night, so the code would only work for a few hours after this.

Rick's code opened up a new compartment, this one practically bursting with money, and he dropped Morty's earnings inside, then eased it shut again and pulled the carpet carefully back over it. "G-g-get to bed, it's late," he chastised, his voice a little softer than normal. Sometimes Rick could be caring, if he let his guard down, and Morty cherished those little moments when Rick would really act like his grandpa and not his pimp. Morty gave Rick a little smile that he didn't return and hurried up the stairs to his dingy little room.

Morty laid awake in his rickety bed until he knew Rick would be asleep (Rick always drank nonstop once Morty went to bed and blacked out in an hour) and snuck out of his room, down the stairs, back to their living room. He'd learned long ago which stairs creaked and could make it down them with silent ease. He crouched by the corner and pulled up the carpet as slowly as he could. He pushed the button and pulled the passcode compartment open.

"Okay," he whispered to himself. "Okay. It was..." His hand hovered over the numbers, trying to remember what came first. Finally, he settled on the two. "Two... f-four, nine, z-zero..." He was drawing a blank. "Um... three, eight, s-s-seven... f-four." That seemed right. He held his breath as he punched in the last number.

The compartment opened.

Morty's jaw dropped. He stared at the pile of bills, thousands and thousands of them, everything he'd earned for the last year and had never been allowed to touch. He reached eagerly for it, ready to stuff his pockets and run away to anywhere else with his riches, but a bony hand grabbed his wrist.

"Y-you fucking idiot." Morty stared at the hand on his wrist, tears forming in his eyes. "I have c-c-common sense, M-morty. I've known about y-your attempts to unlock this thing for - for months. I knew y-you'd try to steal from m-me one of these days."

"Y-y-you're the one stealing f-from me," Morty muttered.

Rick yanked him up by the arm and grabbed his chin, forcing Morty to look at him. "W-w-what did y-you just say?"

Morty swallowed hard. "I-I said y-you're stealing from me."

Rick snorted. "Ricks can't steal from M-mortys. Y-y-you fucking belong to me."

"Don't remind m-me," Morty groaned. "C-c-can't you just let me have some of it, y-you bastard? I just w-want to have _some_ k-kind of c-control over my own life, R-rick! And I'm n-n-not r-really your M-morty."

Rick let go of his chin and slapped his cheek hard, leaving a stinging red handprint. Morty wanted to cry out, but wouldn't give Rick the satisfaction. "Your R-rick and m-m-my Morty are _d-dead_ , kid. Dead. So the C-citadel paired us up, w-w-whether y-y-you like it or n-not. So I can d-do what I want with you and your m-money."

Morty struggled to pull his wrist out of Rick's grip. He knew this would turn into a full-out fight if he argued for much longer. "J-j-just let me go to b-bed, Rick," he said, resigned. "Let me _g-go_."

Rick shook his head. "No. That was the last straw, M-m-morty."

"The last - w-what?"

Rick pulled him over the the door, undid the chain, and yanked it open. Cold air and the smell of machinery rushed in, making Morty shiver. "G-get. The fuck. Out."

"What? W-w-w-wait! Rick!" Morty gripped Rick's collar with his free hand. "No, no, I didn't m-mean it, d-don't m-m-make me leave!" Rick pried Morty's fingers off of him and shoved him out the door, then slammed it in his face. "RICK!" Morty banged on the door, but Rick didn't reply. "R-rick..." He was crying now, and he wiped at his tears with the hem of his shirt, but it didn't help much. The air was freezing; he wished he hadn't taken off his jacket. Why didn't he ever wear anything warmer than this goddamn t-shirt?

Morty turned away from the apartment and looked out at the city around his apartment. It had never seemed scary before now. He sobbed and buried his face in his hands, unsure of what the hell to do next. He'd hated his Rick with a burning passion, but now that he knew he wasn't getting a second chance, he felt... broken. Like his heart had been ripped in two and the other half was still in that apartment.

He made his way down the staircase, lingered on the last step like Rick was going to run out of the apartment and tell him to come back. After a moment, he realized, _He doesn't give a fuck about me._ It was true, it had always been true.

He hugged himself for a little more warmth and began the long walk out of the city towards the one place he'd promised himself he would never end up: Mortytown.

**Author's Note:**

> woo! first fic posted! this is going to be part of a collection of random stories from around the citadel (i just think it's neat). this work itself will also have more chapters - i have good things planned for morty, don't worry! kudos and nice comments are appreciated!!
> 
> also, if anyone has a citadel-related prompt they'd like to see written, feel free to comment it or shoot me an ask on my tumblr blog @citadelkids!


End file.
